Disclaimer: You really don't believe I own these guys, do you? Surely not. Definitely not making any money off of this.
Warning: This chapter is going to deal with what, I guess, you'd call something of an attempted suicide. Definitely involves dark thoughts and a rather tense situation. If that kind of thing bothers you, don't read this. Nothing graphic, though. Some rough language, but if a friend trying to kill themselves isn't a good reason for that, I don't know what is.
Forget continuity. Just put it out of your head. You'll feel much better. This veers off of the regular story line after X-Men #109 and this is my own, personal, opinion of how Uncanny X-Men #390 should have gone. I just have this feeling that, if Kitty had been around when this all happened, she wouldn't have gone outside to play basketball, like everyone else did, while Peter killed himself. I mean, really. Who didn't see that coming as soon as Hank said the cure would kill the host, just like the original virus when it was release?
Done ranting now. On with the story.
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Paper Flowers
Chapter 10 – The Cure, Redoux
It all hit her in a rush and she stumbled, not even aware of the rough hands that reached out to steady her so that she wouldn't fall. Neither did she notice the crowd of friends gathered around her, who'd stopped what they were doing as soon as they'd realized the situation and gotten to her just in time to witness the final scene between her and Peter.
Kitty never saw Kurt, Ororo, Logan, and Rogue exchanged pained, concerned looks, hit with a sickening sense of deja vu as they watched a scene from nearly a decade before play itself out again tonight.
In fact, she saw very little, her eyes blurred with the tears running down her face as she turned and dashed toward the ladies room, phasing herself through everyone and everything in her way, no caring who saw. All she knew was that she had to get there before she completely fell apart.
Stunned, her friends could only watch her go, stark incomprehension or grave concern written on their faces.
Bobby called out to her, even as Rogue and Ororo started to follow after her, but Kitty didn't hear them, didn't want to hear them. She just wanted to get away.
Phasing through the restroom door, she retained the presence of mind to turn the lock, ensuring that she wouldn't be disturbed, unless they decided to blow the door off it's hinges or slice it into firewood, which she doubted.
Unable to fight her roiling emotions any longer, Kitty leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes against the overwhelming flood of tears and emotions that she could no longer hold in check.
The cool tile sent goose bumps skittering along her back, where it touched bare skin, and she latched onto the sensation as a drowning woman latches onto a piece of flotsam to keep from being dragged into the black, bottomless sea. Her legs finally gave out, refusing to support her any longer, and she slid bonelessly to the floor in something akin to slow motion.
Drawing her knees up to her chest, she dropped her head and gave in to the wracking, tearing sobs that had been trying to escape while she was still out on the dance floor, her long hair falling around her in a curtain as her slim body shook with the force of her sorrow.
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Outside the ladies room, nine mutants of various powers, beings who'd saved the world countless times and the universe at least twice, stood, staring helplessly at the locked restroom door, unsure what to do next.
"Shouldn't somebody go in there, see if she's ok?" Bobby watched the door intently, as if he expected it to perform some trick or speak up and tell them all what was going on inside.
"And just how would you suggest we do that, Robert, aside from striking the door with lightning, blowing it apart with concussive force, or carving it into small pieces? All of which would undoubtedly draw even more attention to us than we already have."
It came out much more curt and cutting than Ororo had meant it to be, but she wasn't in the mood to coddle anyone right now. Except for Kitty and she couldn't get to her, which only increased her worry induced irritation.
"Couldn't you pick the lock, Ororo?" Betsy asked, knowing that their team leader had some considerable skill in such things.
"Or, I could find the manager and see if he has a key." Kurt offered.
"Or, ya could all just leave her the hell alone and let her come out when she's ready." Logan threw in before any more suggestions could be offered up.
All eyes turned to where he stood, leaning against one wall just inside the little alcove that led to the clubs two restrooms.
"We are simply concerned about her, Logan." Ororo glared at him, a look that would have quelled any further protest immediately if it had been anyone other than Wolverine. Logan, however, just shrugged it off, not particularly impressed with the Weather Goddesses little fits of temper.
"She locked the door for a reason, 'Ro. I don't think she's gonna slit her wrists, if that's what yer worried about."
"I did not suppose that she would." Ororo returned, somewhat heatedly. "But I remember the state she was in the last time this happened..."
Neal turned to Betsy, giving her a quizzical look. "This happens a lot with those two?"
Betsy pinned him with her best, upper class English, withering glare, not in the mood for stupid questions. She knew, as perhaps no one else could, how upset Kitty had to be. "Neal.... do shut up."
Ignoring the by play between his other two team mates, Logan shook his head at his long-time friend in exasperation. "Fer Christ's sake, she was fourteen years old then. Somehow, I don't think she'll have quite the same reaction this time."
"But you cannot deny she was very upset, mein freund." Kurt reverted, as he usually did whenever there was a conflict, to his habitual role as peacemaker and referee. "We only want to assure ourselves that she is all right."
"Damn, for such a smart group, y'all are pretty dense." From beside Logan, Rogue finally spoke up, bristling at the others, tired of their knee-jerk reaction of interfering in everything that happened to any other member of the team because they thought they could make it all better. Whether the member in question wanted their help or not. The auburn haired mutant had first hand experience in how truly irritating that could be.
"Of course she ain't all right. Did she look all right to you?" Her blazing green eyes swept over each of her friends, daring anyone to contradict her. "But she's a big girl. And she don't need us to hold her hand. She'll come out when she's ready and she'll talk to us when she's ready. Hell, Petey looked just as bad as she did, in case y'all didn't notice, but I don't see none of you runnin' after him."
"Perhaps someone should go back to the mansion and check on Peter." Betsy suggested a little guiltily. "Rogue's right. He looked just as shaken as Kitty."
"If yer all smart, ya'll just leave 'em both alone ta sort this out in their own way. If they want our help, they'll ask for it. This is somethin' that we've all seen builidin' up fer a while. They're both grown-ups. They can deal with their problems just like we all deal with ours." He sent a pointed glance Ororo's way, knowing her propensity to try to talk and advise Kitty to death any time the young woman encountered a problem. "Ever'body don't need, or want, the rest of the world playin' counselor with their personal problems."
That said, Logan sauntered off, returning to their table and ordering another round of drinks. With a last look at the faces around her, Rogue turned to follow him. The others looked around at one another, shrugged, and did the same. All except for Ororo, who stationed herself by the door, waiting for Kitty.
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She'd cried herself out, finally. All the tears were gone, at least for the moment. There would be more later, and for a long time to come, but there wasn't anything she could do about that now. Plenty of time to worry about it down the road, her whole life, in fact.
Rubbing gingerly at her red, swollen eyes, Kitty managed to pick herself up off the bathroom floor to lean against the cold tile wall again. Maybe her legs would hold this time, but it really didn't matter to her. She could fall apart here just as easily as anywhere else.
Her eyes hurt, her throat hurt, there was a migraine pounding behind her skull, that damned song was stuck in her head, playing itself over and over again, mocking her, laughing at her. Her nose was clogged up and she imagined her face resembled something akin to a Halloween mask by this point. One of the main reasons she hated wearing any more than very minimal makeup. If you started crying, your face looked like it was melting off.
Right now, all she wanted to do was go home. There was just one problem. She had to leave this room to do that.
She knew they were out there, waiting, just on the other side of the door, with all of their friendship and good intentions. They wanted to pet her, coddle her, make her feel better. They just didn't understand that she didn't want any of that. It wouldn't help and, at this point, it would just irritate her.
Taking several deep, steadying breaths, she pushed herself off the wall and walked to the door. Couldn't stay in here forever. Had to go out there sometime. No time like the present.
Besides, she wanted to get to the mansion, pack her few remaining things, and get out the door, preferably before anyone was the wiser. If she went now, did it while she was still numb and hollow, it would be so much easier. She might actually be able to get through it without collapsing into hysterics.
She reached out, unlocking the door, but not bothering to open it. With a thought, she walked through it, passing the molecules of her own body through those of the wood. Such a little thing. Such a quiet, unassuming power. Yet it had cost her more in her life than could ever be regained.
As she'd thought, Ororo was waiting for her on the other side of the door, but at least she was alone.
"Kitty..." The platinum-haired mutant held out her hand to Kitty, taking in the puffy eyes, the somewhat shell shocked expression, wanting to embrace her, but the younger woman simply passed right through her as if she weren't there.
"Not now, Ororo. I appreciate the concern...but not now. I can't deal with it."
Not bothering to wait for a reply, Kitty made a bee line for the dance floor, where Logan was currently dancing with Rogue.
They both stopped as she neared, waiting for her to reach them. When she did, she didn't bother to mince words.
"Logan, I know it's a lot to ask, but can I borrow your bike? I really want to get home and lie down for a while."
The feral mutant studied her for a moment, seeing the evidence of her tears, the pained expression in her eyes, the way her hands kept going to her head, massaging her temples. She'd been through hell tonight. That much was evident, but he wouldn't ask any questions right now. There'd be time for that later, when her head was in a better place. He knew very well what it was to want some privacy when your world suddenly went to shit.
Wordlessly, he pulled the keys from his jeans pocket, tossing them to her.
"Want me to drive ya?" he asked solicitously, though he knew what her answer would be, even before she shook her head. Outwardly, she appeared calm, almost detached, but his senses told him that was just a mask she was wearing. Her scent held a jumbled mix of emotions and he knew that, inside, was a swirling, confused mass that she needed time to sort out.
"No. Thanks, but no thanks. I need a little time by myself, where it's quiet."
"No problem. Got yer phone, in case ya run inta trouble?"
"Yeah." Impulsively, she leaned in and hugged him tight, whispering very quieltly in his ear. "Thanks, Logan. I love you. I hope you know that."
He returned her hug fiercely, whispering back to her, voice so gruff and low that only she would hear. "Love ya, too, Darlin'. Ya know where ta find me if ya need me."
Without another word, she stepped away and made for the door, feeling his eyes on her the whole way, knowing he was worrying about her, but appreciating the fact that he trusted her to be enough of an adult to ask for help if, and when, she needed it.
The cold night air slapped her in the face, clearing her head marginally and she gave up a silent prayer of thanks that she hadn't felt like drinking anything tonight. The coming morning would be bad enough without having to deal with a hangover on top of everything else.
Walking quickly through the parking lot, Kitty found Logan's big, black Road King Classic with ease, the moonlight glinting off the chrome making it glow like a star. She straddled the big bike, picking up the helmet hanging on the handle bars and putting it on, fastening the strap under her chin to secure it.
Reaching into the right hand saddle bag, she pulled out a set of driving gloves, ones that Logan kept there especially for her, and slipped them on, the leather butter soft, fitting her almost as close as her own skin. She was the only other person he would let on the huge Harley. He'd taught her to ride the monster before she'd been old enough to even drive a car and she held a motorcycle license as well as her regular drivers license, for which she was extremely thankful at the moment.
With a flick of her wrist, she turned the key in the ignition and the beast literally roared to life, settling into a rumbling idle as she checked her gauges and found her balance point. The motorcycle was much heavier than it looked and she'd had to learn to balance it properly to keep it from tipping over when she stopped or started off, but she handled it now with no problems. Kitty could have driven it in her sleep if she'd had to.
Maneuvering it into a fully upright position, she hit the kickstand with her foot, disengaging it so that it flipped up and out of the way. When it was clear, she gunned the engine. With a loud, bass rumble of chrome pipes that set the windows in the club rattling, Kitty was off and gone, the wind whipping her long hair out behind her as she pushed the big machine as fast as she dared along the dark, open road.
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He walked for a while, trying to clear his head, ending up on the little bluff just above the lake, looking out at the lights across the water. Almost ten years ago, he'd come to this same spot, but not alone.
If he closed his eyes, let his mind drift back to that day that seemed like yesterday, or a lifetime ago, he could see it so clearly, the sunset over the water, turning the lake to fire, the clouds overhead to puffs of lavender, rose, and russet. He could smell the new grass of that clear, early spring evening, hear the faint lap of the waves at the base of the bluff.
And he could hear the ghosts of the children they'd been then, could hear her soft, clear voice as she sat beside him, watching him, understanding that something wasn't right, but not knowing what.
Gee, you and the X-Men got kidnapped to the far side of the universe...and you didn't take me along. I'm hurt...Anything interesting happen out there?
I met someone else. We fell in love....She died in my arms, Kitty. She gave her life for mine.
I'm sorry for your loss, Peter. She must have meant the world to you.
As much as you once did.
"Once"?
I cannot deny what I felt...and still feel.
I understand, Peter. You pick up the pieces, start over again.
This is very hard for me.
It's easy for me?!
Kitty...!
Why won't you call me "Katya" anymore, Peter? Have I changed?
I have. My feelings have. I care for you deeply, Kitty...but the love I felt, the commitment...is no longer there.
The echo of those long ago words came back to him now, carried by the soft night wind, pointing out to him how shallow, how inconsiderate and unfeeling he'd been to her that day. He'd simply blurted it all out, blunt and too the point, not caring how badly he was hurting her, caring only about his own perceived loss.
For a woman he'd known only a few days, a woman he hadn't even been able to communicate with, for what he'd thought was love, but was now only a pale reflection of memory, he'd cut Katherine Pryde from his heart. By the time he'd realized what a mistake that had been, it was far too late to repair the damage.
Until tonight, he'd held out some hope that he and Kitty might yet find their way to one another again, but Peter had looked into her eyes, really looked, and seen what he'd been trying to deny all this time.
Somewhere along the line, she'd outgrown him, taken his memory, the feelings she'd had for him, and locked them away, like mementos of a time remembered fondly, but not necessarily one she'd want to revisit.
Whatever changes she was going through, whatever demons she was battling, she didn't need, or want his help, or him.
She was strong, had always been strong. Whatever challenge she was facing, Kitty could, and would, beat it.
They'd all scoffed at Logan when he'd taken her on to train, telling them that, inside, she was like him and that instinct, that attitude, needed to be channeled properly. Kitty had only been a little over thirteen years old and they'd thought he'd lost his mind. She was just a little girl with a temper.
But he'd been right. Perhaps more right than even he'd known. Kitty was so like Logan at times that she could have been his own child. She was so like the Wolverine that it was frightening. He'd seen it in her tonight, in the quick flare of rage, the quiet menace as she automatically took up a fighting stance.
Whatever came, Kitty would be fine. She would go and make a life for herself. She didn't need a protector anymore, no longer had a need, nor a desire, for a knight in shining armor.
Peter looked out across the water, to the sparkling lights of the city, to the rippling reflection of the moon and stars hanging high overhead, and knew that his time as one of the X-Men was done. He'd done all he could for Charles Xavier's Dream.
But out there tonight, there were still people who needed help, people who were suffering, as Illyana had suffered, people who were dying, as she had died.
Perhaps there was one last thing he could do for those of his kind, for The Dream.
For mutants and non-mutants to ever be able to live together in peace, mutants would have to live.
Standing, he turned his back on the bluff, on the ghosts of the fourteen year old girl and the nineteen year old boy that haunted this place, and turned toward the mansion, where the lights from the medlab still burned, like beacons in the night.
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Kitty steered the chrome and steel monster into the underground garage, pulling into it's designated spot and switching off as she lowered the kickstand. She pulled the keys from the ignition with one hand as her other unfastened the helmet and slipped it off, shaking out her hair as she did so.
The ride home had helped clear her mind a little, but her head still throbbed, and that damned song was stuck on replay in her head and just would not go away.
Hanging the helmet on one handlebar and stashing the gloves back in the saddlebag, she slowly made her way to the elevator that would take her up to the main levels.
Normally, she would have taken the stairs, but she just didn't think her head could take it tonight. All that jogging up and down would only make it worse and the last thing she wanted to cap off this lovely evening was a migraine so bad that it made her physically ill. That had happened once or twice and it was definitely not an experience she had any desire to repeat. Especially not tonight.
She stepped onto the elevator as soon as the doors slid open, pushing the button that would take her near the medlab. As much as she really didn't want to have to deal with anyone else at the moment, Kitty was hoping Hank or Cecelia could give her something to knock out this headache before it became a major issue. Time was ticking away as it was and she didn't want to be hampered any more than absolutely necessary.
Her mind turned to Peter and she briefly wondered if he'd come straight home or if he was still out somewhere, wandering around, trying to put things into perspective, as she'd been.
In many ways, she hoped he wasn't here yet. It was doubtful that he'd have any desire to see her after the nights festivities, but she'd just rather not chance running into him unexpectedly all the same. She wasn't up to dealing with him again. Not tonight.
Again, the doors slid open to admit her to the hall just off the medlab wing and she turned down the left-hand corridor, her mind a million miles away, even as her body put itself on auto pilot and carried her in the direction she wanted to go.
So, what was it that suddenly put her on alert halfway down the hall? Kitty would probably never be able to say for sure.
Maybe it was the voices, some tonal quality that didn't sound quite right. It wouldn't have been what they were saying. She was too far away to make out any specific words and she didn't have Logan's enhanced hearing. Or, maybe, it was just some sixth sense of her own, that flash of intuition that she occasionally received when something was terribly, horribly, wrong with someone she was close to.
In any case, Kitty found herself stopped dead still in the middle of the hallway, every nerve in her body on edge, her ears straining to make out the voices coming from the door near the end of the hall.
She recognized Cecelia's authoritative, no nonsense tone instantly, but something about it just wasn't right. It was strained, tense, with a undertone that was almost...cajoling, pleading. Very un-Cecelia like.
Quiet as a shadow, she began moving, making absolutely no sound, phasing on instinct honed in years of fending off surprise attacks, at all hours of the day and night, by all manner of foes from aliens, to terrorists, to demonic, animated stuffed toys.
Then a male voice spoke up and she recognized it as Peter. But instead of relaxing, or even turning around and leaving to avoid another confrontation, she tensed even more. Something was definitely not right. His tone held a...wrongness. That was the only word she could think of to describe it and Kitty was hit with a sudden sense of urgency.
Moving as quickly as she dared while still unaware of the nature of the situation she was about to enter, she stopped just this side of the medlab door, flattening herself against the wall and listening.
"I let her down."
It was Peter's voice again and, again, there was just that feeling of wrongness. Something in his tone, in the way he said it.
"Peter, you heard what Hank said. The Legacy virus kills at random. There was nothing you could have done to save her."
That was Cecelia, again with that strange tone to her voice and, suddenly, Kitty placed it. She'd heard the police use that very same tone, that cadence of voice, when talking down jumpers, potential suicides.
Every hair on her head felt as if it were standing on end and, for a a moment, she was torn by indecision, the realization of what was occurring overloading her already taxed mental capacity.
"Not from the disease, no. But she should never have been here. Not in the states. I should have sent her home, to Russia. She might have been safe there. But I let her stay...I think, in part, because I was lonely."
Kitty stayed put, taking the chance that Cecelia would keep him talking long enough for her to get a fix on their voices, to map out in her head where they were in the room and in relation to one another. She wasn't afraid of Peter hurting Dr. Reyes, but she was terrified of what he was planning to do to himself and she would fight him to keep it from happening. To her last breath, if necessary.
"Peter, sacrificing yourself isn't going to even the score. Nothing you can do is going to bring her back. I'm a doctor. I'm not going to stand by and let you throw your life away."
Ok, she had a fairly certain fix on Cecelia. Somewhere between the door and the storage refrigerator and Kitty would bet on closer to the refrigerator. Which meant she was probably fairly close to Peter, considering that the Legacy cure sample was stored in that refrigeration unit.
Dr. Reyes was hoping to stop him. Physically. Kitty knew she wasn't capable of that. She was a medical doctor, a trauma specialist. Cecelia hadn't had the training necessary to allow her to overpower someone of Peter's size and strength.
"I understand that."
Peter again, and this time Kitty could put him fairly close to where ever Ceclia was, just as she'd thought. If she was going to take her best guess, she'd say between the doctor and the cold storage unit, which made what she had to do a little more difficult, but not impossible.
Then, Peter was speaking again, his voice calm, reasonable and all together too emotionless for her taste. He'd closed himself off behind that wall again.
"But your Bio-Forcefield is triggered in response to kinetic energy. This gas will make it through that field."
Oh, shit. Goddamn it all to hell. Bastard. I am going to take that damn can of anesthetic and shove it up his ass!
She knew exactly what he was talking about, what he was probably holding up right this minute, preparing to knock Cecelia out long enough to accomplish what he had in mind.
Suddenly, Kitty was angry. No, not just angry. Furious. What the hell did he think he was doing? When she got her hands on him, and she would get her hands on him, she was going to kick his ass seven ways into next week. All the organic metal armor in the world would not save him from what she was going to do to him. She'd be damned if she was burying another friend.
Using the anger, she let it well up, push everything else aside, let the adrenaline rush wash over her, fuel her, drive her.
No fear, no time to think about what you're going to do, no hesitation. Just do it.
Knowing she had only seconds to act, Kitty dropped to the floor in a crouch and leapt through the wall of the medlab, hitting the floor and tucking into a roll in a move that would have made an Olympic gymnast proud. It brought her up directly behind Cecelia, who she immediately grabbed and shoved behind her, putting herself between Peter and the doctor.
"Peter, so help me, if you don't put that can down, you will live just long enough to regret it. I promise you that."
She'd surprised them both enough that neither one had yet recovered, their brains trying to process where she'd suddenly sprung up from, and she took the opportunity to divest Peter of his can of anesthetic gas. Unfortunately, she hadn't realized that, in his other hand, he held the syringe containing the Legacy cure, which he'd already removed from the refrigerator behind him.
He stood there, unmoving, simply looking at her, that curtain down behind his eyes, over his face, making him unreadable.
"Kitty, please...just walk away. It has to be done and my mind is made up. You cannot change it, but I would rather you not be here to witness this."
She meet his gaze steadily, unmoving. Kitty didn't question that he was serious. She knew, without a doubt, that he was. So was she.
They would both walk out of here tonight, or neither of them would. It was that simple.
"Sorry, Peter, but that's not happening. You want to do this, you're going to have to do it with me here. You can't knock me out. You can't even touch me."
He blanched slightly, but stood firm, unmoving, the syringe of neon pink liquid uncapped, needle bare, clutched tightly in his fist. Kitty wasn't sure she would be quick enough to stop him if he tried to use it on himself, but she would damn well give it her best shot.
"You are right. I cannot force you to go. I would rather you not be here, but it is your choice. Just as this is my choice." His expression softened slightly then, as he tried to make her understand. "The hardest thing I have ever done was watch helplessly as Illyana was taken by this virus. And I cannot, in good conscience, stand by while someone else's sister, or mother, or brother, or daughter suffers and dies as she did. Not when there is a means to stop it within my reach."
Kitty took a millisecond to consider her options, then spoke to Cecelia, who was still standing behind her, not knowing what to do, apparently afraid to move, less it set off what they were both trying to prevent.
"Cecelia, go get Hank. Quickly. Tell him what's happening. Tell him to bring resuscitation equipment." She instructed the doctor, not daring to turn around, not daring to take her eyes off Peter, even for a split second.
"What!?" Dr. Reyes gaped at her back, thinking the girl must have lost her mind. "Kitty, I can't leave you here, alone..."
"You can, and you will. Peter won't hurt me. That's not even a concern. Just do what I ask...Please."
Something in her voice, in her body language, told the doctor that further argument would be futile and Cecelia Reyes spun on her heels, running out of the medlab and down the hall, screaming for Hank at the top of her lungs.
Before she was even out the door, Kitty took one small step closer to Peter, seeing the confusion on his face.
Good. Confusion is good. Keep him off balance.
"Has it somehow slipped your mind, Peter, that I was there, too. I was sitting right beside Illyana, closer than I am to you right now, holding her hand, when she went into complete respiratory arrest." God, oh God, it was so hard to remember that day. It hurt so much. Even now, years later, she could hardly bear to think about it.
Her face a mask of remembered pain, her voice shaking, Kitty struggled to continue. "I was the one who argued against the Professor putting her onto that Shi'ar stasis device. Maybe...maybe if I'd let him go ahead, if I hadn't stopped him, this cure might have given her the chance she deserved. The chance to live..."
It was an somewhat unfair tactic, Kitty knew, to bring that particular detail into the argument, but she wasn't known for playing fair in the best of circumstances. She certainly wouldn't waste time on it now. No matter how much it might hurt him. Or her.
His hand touched her cheek as she drew in a ragged breath, and this time it was Peter who took a step closer to her.
"Katya...do not think such a thing. You did the only thing you could, the thing I would have done had I been here. You did the right thing. Illyana would not have wished such an existence and I would not have wished it for her. She is gone, but there are others like her who can still benefit from this."
He held up the syringe, it's contents reflecting a multi-hued prism on the medlab wall as it caught the light. Kitty raised her head, looking at the pastel colored fluid that was both cure and curse, and damned Stryfe to the depths of hell and eternal torment at the hands of Satan's most vicious devils.
"Most likely, Peter, you're right. I probably can't stop you from doing this. It's your choice." She turned her piercing, golden-brown eyes back to him then, wanting to make sure he understood, with absolute clarity, what she was about to say. "But then, we all have choices. What you have in your hand is the initial sample of the cure for the Legacy virus. You can inject yourself, trigger your mutation, and it'll be done. The virus will be cured and you'll be dead."
However hard it might be, she didn't mince words, wasn't going to pull punches, figuratively or literally. No euphemisms, no sugar coating. Just plain, simple, unvarnished truth. It was really the only weapon she had.
Kitty stopped, taking a deep breath, holding it, releasing it slowly, and put all the conviction she was capable of in her next statement, meaning every word as she'd never meant anything else in her life.
"What you may not know is that this isn't the only sample. There are others, locked up in the lab just next door. They're the ones Hank's been working with, trying to modify. Only, nothing's worked so far. But, they're just as lethal as what you're holding. So....know this, before you make that irreversible choice you're so set on."
In his dark eyes, she could see the dawning of comprehension, saw him waver slightly as it all began to sink in, and she knew she at least had his attention. And that she was slowly breaking through that wall.
"It'll take me about ten seconds to phase through that wall," she pointed to her right to the wall separating the two labs. "reach into that locked container, pull out one of those other samples, and use it on myself. Intangibility is my natural state. I won't even have to think about it. All I'll have to do is just...let go. Chances are, before you draw your last breath, I'll have already hit the floor."
Peter nearly dropped the syringe he was holding as the shock of what she was saying hit him. Hard. He knew he was gaping at her, but couldn't help himself. Had she lost her mind?
"Kitty...Boshe Moi...why would you say such a thing? How could you even consider...." His voice trailed off and he shook his head, trying to clear it. "What would be the point of taking your life in such a way. It is insane."
"Because," she replied levelly. "upstairs, I have this box of photographs. A big box. And all those pictures have one thing in common. All the people in them are dead. I've stood over a friend's grave for the last time. I can't do it again, and especially not if it's yours."
Silence settled over them, Peter not knowing what to say, Kitty unable to say anything else at the moment. Her composure was holding up only through the sheer force of her own will, but she wouldn't let go. Not yet. She might be very near the breaking point herself, but, until that break came, she'd do everything within her power to stop this.
Behind her, Kitty heard Hank and Cecelia enter, stopping just inside the door, and she imagined they were both wondering what to do next. She wished she could tell them, but she had no idea what the final outcome here would be.
She still held the can of anesthetic gas in her hand. She could try to use it on him, take him by surprise and hope it took effect before he had a chance to use the syringe in his hand. She could give up, walk away and let him do as he would. And end up standing over another grave, staring at another empty place where someone should be, but wasn't. Only, this time, it would Peter, and Kitty knew that would be unbearable.
Or, she could do exactly as she'd said. Go into the next room, pull out another sample, inject herself, and let the darkness claim her. No more hurt, no more grief, no more Soulsword. No more anything. Just peace. At long last.
Kitty could feel Hank and Cecelia watching her, watching them, could almost hear them holding their breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She wondered what they would think if they could see into her head, could know how close she was to standing exactly where Peter was.
Would they understand that, if these roles were reversed right now, she'd already be dead on the floor, because there was no one on earth who would be able to talk her out of it once the decision was made?
And, in her own head, she understood that it didn't matter to her any more. Life or death, it was all the same as far as she was concerned. She wanted Peter to live, but she couldn't care less about herself.
You will live. Both of you.
This time, the voice didn't even take her by surprise. In truth, she'd been expecting it long before now. What did surprise her was it's attitude. The statement was more an order than a prediction, and it almost made her smile.
I always do what the voices in my head tell me I should.
Or a quote to that effect. She'd seen it on a bumper sticker. It was supposed to be humorous. Obviously, the author had never had a voice walking around in his head, telling him what to do, throwing more riddles and mysteries at him than the Sphinx. When it really happened, it wasn't humorous. It was pathetic.
If I die, who will you go to then?
No one. I would wait.
For what? Or who?
The Next.
Oh, good. More riddles. Got anything to add that might make sense?
When the voice didn't answer, Kitty snorted, almost laughing aloud. Damned if she didn't think she'd just insulted an evil, mystical object and sent it off in a snit.
Abruptly, it came to her that she might very well be losing her mind.
"Katya...Why?"
Peter's softly spoken question, asked in his native Russian, jerked her brain into gear, forcing it to translate for her, and brought her back to her present situation. She automatically answered him back in the same language.
"Why what?"
"Why would you do this thing because of me? Someone must make the sacrifice and I am willing to do that, but...." He broke off, shaking his head in confusion, the length of dark hair secured at the nape of his neck swinging with the motion, as he reached out to lay his free hand on her arm. "Katya, I do not understand. Why would you even consider such a thing when it would serve no purpose?"
She laid her hand over his with a sigh. "What does it matter if it serves a purpose or not? What purpose would your death serve in the end? Did Moira's death serve a purpose? Or Doug's? Or Illyana's? If there's one thing I've learned in my time with the X-Men, it's that death rarely serves any real purpose, because the only one's it ever takes are the ones we can't afford to loose."
"But it would serve a purpose, Kitty." he replied quietly. "It would save thousands upon thousands of lives. What is one life when weighed against such as that?"
After seeming to give it some thought, Kitty nodded her head slowly. "Maybe you're right, Peter. Perhaps one death isn't that much when weighed against all those dying of Legacy around the world. Here, in Europe, in Genosha..."
Letting that thought trail off, she blinked at him, tilting her head thoughtfully as she spoke again, but it was as if she wasn't speaking to him, only to herself.
"I've been to Genosha. Recently. My father's there, somewhere. I was trying to find him." She shrugged, as if it was all inconsequential, but Peter knew better. Behind her, he could see Hank and Cecelia, just inside the door, watching them both, uncertain what to do, if anything, and exchanging confused, worried looks. "But, I couldn't. Instead, I lost another friend. Funny...no one's even asked about my dragon...."
Peter felt a sick dread settle over him as he realized he hadn't seen the little purple, alien dragon in months. And Lockheed and Kitty had been inseparable since she was fourteen.
"Kitty....what happened to Lockheed?"
"He's dead. Killed in Genosha. My fault." Her voice was flat, cold, and it sent chills down his spine, but it was nothing to what she said next. "It's horrible there. Dead and dying everywhere. I guess one life wouldn't be that high a price to pay to end all that, to give those people another chance at life. But, I'm just a little selfish. I don't know all those people out there, infected with Legacy. I know you, though, and I can't, I won't, stand by and watch you die."
Before he even realized what she was doing, her hand curled over his fist that held the syringe, though she didn't try to take it from him, simply let her fingers rest over his. "I love you, Peter. I always have. If this has to be done, then let me do it. Give me the syringe and walk away. Like you said, what's one life to save thousands?"
His own words came back and slapped him in the face with the force of a wrecking ball, nearly knocking the breath from him.
"Nyet!" He said it with all the force he could muster, the mere thought making him physically ill. He tried to pull his hand away from hers, but found that he couldn't. Kitty was much stronger than she appeared and she refused to release him. "Never!"
"All right, then. We're back to our original two choices." Peter couldn't believe how calm she was and it suddenly dawned on him that this is what she'd been talking about when she'd accused him earlier of retreating behind a wall, of shutting down and shutting everything out. "Either you hand me the syringe, so I can give it to Hank, and we both walk out of here, or neither of us does. The choice is yours. Make it for both of us."
Kitty watched the emotions run across his face, waiting for him to decide, though she had no doubt about what the outcome would be. She had them both phased, had done it the moment their hands touched, though he wasn't aware of it.
He couldn't use the syringe on himself now and she could easily phase it out of his grasp in an instant. But she didn't want to do that unless she absolutely had to. She wanted him to hand it over voluntarily, to choose to live and put this idea out of his mind.
There were other options for this cure that he wasn't aware of.
A moment later, he opened his hand, dropping the syringe into her palm. Without even looking, Kitty simply held her hand, which wasn't nearly as steady as she would've liked, out behind her and the offending object was immediately snatched away.
Taking a second to steady herself, she cupped her hands over her face, taking deep, even breaths until she was no longer visibly trembling. She didn't dare relax right now. If she did, she knew she'd shatter into millions of pieces right here on the medlab floor. And she'd probably never be able to put herself back together again.
When she felt able, she dropped her hands to her side and, without another word to anyone, she spun around and walked back out the way she'd come, brushing past a very shaken and very stunned Hank McCoy, ignoring his and Cecelia's attempts to stop her. She simply passed right through them.
Kitty kept up her brisk walk until she was well out of sight of the medlab. Then, she began to run.
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To all my reviewers: You guys are the absolute best there is! Thank you all so much for taking the time out to read and comment on this fic. You don't know what a help and inspiration you guys are.
Evanescence kicks ass: I'm so glad you liked chapter 9. So far, it was the one I have most enjoyed writing. Poor Kitty and Peter are sort of stuck in the Night That Never Seems to End for chapters 9, 10, and 11. Believe me, they've got a lot more talking to do now.
Caliente: I missed you! But I definitely understand about uncooperative computers. This chapter was supposed to be up a day or two ago, but my computer ate half of Chapter 11, which sent me into meltdown for a couple of day. Hmmm. Maybe you can teach me the Hulk Smash thing. Might come in handy. And you know I couldn't let Kurt and Kitty stay all weird around one another. Beside, she's gonna need him later, so they need to be on at least speaking terms. We'll get a cameo out of Amanda in chapter 11, if I can keep the evil computer god from smiting it again. The Bobby thing just popped into my head and I feel sorry for the guy. He's always portrayed as either an idiot practical joker, a loser, or both. I thought he deserved a little sympathy too.
*B: Thanks so much for your review! I'm sorry I made you cry, but I gotta admit, I cried while I was writing the darn thing. How sappy is that? I'm so happy that you're enjoying the fic. Kitty and Peter are my first loves from my childhood comic days and they hold a very special place in my heart. Although, why I express that by torturing them mercilessly, I don't know.
Lia Fail: First, let me say how thrilled I was that you like my fic! Paint by Numbers is one of my very favorite fics ever. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your review! And I promise, I have no intention of killing Peter off. If I do, I'm really screwed, cause he's an integral part of the final resolution of this whole mess. Don't even get me started on how they killed him off in UXM #390. I could do an entire dissertation on how lame that issue was, along with my feeling on the entire list of wedding guests to Meggan and Brian's wedding in Excalibur #125. Sat-yr-9 kills 2 of their friends and seduces Brian, the Nazi Exaclibur tries to blow them all up, so the put them on the guest list??? I'm touched that you mentioned Chris Claremont in the same sentence with this fic. I'm trying very hard to keep my character actually in character, so you guys let me know if I start going out into outer space. And as for Belasco, well, y'know, ya just gotta think he might be lurking around somewhere, waiting to pounce on our unsuspecting cast.
Araya-Michiru: I'm so glad you like the fic! Thanks so much for your review. And don't worry too much about being a little unfamiliar and confused about the X-Men comicverse. I've been reading these comics since 1979 and I'm confused at lot of the time. Right now there are approximately 25 years worth of X-Men comics scattered about my den, driving my family crazy, and most of the time I find out that the different comic writers over the years contradict each other. I'm trying to explain as much as I can as I go along, but let me know if I confuzzle you too much. I'll be glad to try and explain. The main thing you need to know is that Marvel has killed off the entire Rasputin family (Both Peter's parents, his brother and sister, and finally Peter himself, though I'm changing that here.) and, if you happen to be a very close friend of Kitty Pryde you're either going to die or be lost in the time stream and flung into the far future, or maybe both. And, she is connected, even in ways I hadn't realized til I started researching this story, to some very powerful forces.
T.A. Pixiestix: I will never tire of your reviews! Ever! I'm thrilled that you're enjoying the story and I'm extremely flattered that you're recommending it to your friend. You're the best!
CaptJesus: I sense a kindred spirit. I share your pain regarding some of the current X-titles and characters. I miss the days when everyone was at the mansion, there weren't a bunch of transparent, green, pink, purple, scaly, lumpy, elephant headed kids running around being taught how to be obnoxious by Emma Frost of all people (What is up with that, anyway?), and the X-Men were heroic force for good instead of a corporate entity. I am greatly confused by X-Corp and the whole Roberto, Amara thing, not to mention the many loose and abandoned plot threads that seem to have been left dangling lately. (Vargas, Shaitan, the quest for Destiny's diaries, etc. None of that was really resolved completely.) In my personal opinion, the Chris Claremont "Demon" stories got so twisted around by different writers and plot devices over the years that it's really confusing and almost impossible to know what they're about. But I like to think they're maybe about destiny and possibly the reclaiming of innocence only thought lost. I truly appreciate that you feel I've captured Kitty's essence. That has been very important to me since I have always identified very closely with her character and I'm depending on you guys to keep me on the straight and narrow and let me know if I start to veer off into the cosmos of "I'm so out of character that I think I may be a clone of Jean Grey". Like you, I feel that Marvel is relegating some of the best characters to either "window dressing" or taking them in such strange directions that I can't even recognize them anymore. I'm right there with you in the Old School and, when all else fails, that's the reference material that I fall back on. I truly appreciate the kind words and hope you continue to enjoy the story.
Again, thanks to all my reviewers. Any and all reviews are welcomed and extremely appreciated.
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A/N: Ok, a couple more things and, I swear, I'll shut up and finish chapter 11 and 12. I mentioned previously that there would be at least minor Kitty/Peter smut in chapter 11. Well, it seems that I no longer control these characters. They are writing their own stuff now and are refusing to behave as I instruct. We are looking at major smut here and these ratings are giving me a fit. This R thing is sort of vague when you look at the ff.net definition. So, are we talking Harlequin romance novel stuff being acceptable, or would that be considered NC-17, which would mean toning it down? Any help or advice would be appreciated.
The remembered dialogue while Peter is sitting on the bluff looking at the lake is from UXM #183 (Wherein Peter breaks up with Kitty in a truly stupid way and Logan takes him to a bar and lets Cain Marko kick Peter's butt.) You can thank former Marvel Editor-in-Chief "Big" Jim Shooter for that fiasco.
The dialogue between Peter and Dr. Cecelia Reyes, prior to Kitty's arrival, is from UXM #390 (Wherein Peter kills himself with the Legacy cure while the rest of the team goes outside to play mutant Basketball.)
Coming Soon: Chapter 11 – Peter and Kitty really have stuff to talk about (among other things) now! The final resolution of the Legacy Cure (and my truly evil plans for it), the mystery of the SoulSword deepens, and a cameo by a former Excalibur member.
PS. I am pretty much ignoring X-Men: Black Sun, the X-Men Unlimited issue where Wolverine, and a couple other X-Men go back to Magneto's island and encounter Belasco (mainly because it was so full of continuity errors), and most of the whole Neo/Kitty thing.